Jade’s Story

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Jade’s Story

Once upon a time, there was a young woman called Jade. Unique, kind and generous of spirit; she is intelligent and awesomely beautiful.

Jade photoI want to celebrate her success – she has been chosen from 1000’s of others to have her work displayed on electronic billboards across Brisbane, Did I mention she is a very talented author and editor?

Jade holds a double degree in Creative Writing /  Public Relations and is completing her Master of Professional Practice Creative Writing. We are all so proud of her accomplishments.

Believe in yourself, Jade. You have an incredibly bright future ahead of you. 

I could be her grandmother, but she always treats me as a peer.  We laugh so much when we are together. We share our dreams and our fears. We have many interests in common. She never makes me feel older. We support each other when there are dark days.  She has enriched my life in ways she could never imagine.

People come into your life for different reasons.  Some stomp all over you leaving you bruised and battered. Others hold out a hand of support asking nothing in return. And then there are those who are always there – building ongoing relationships that feel as if they have been in place forever.  Forever friends.

Her winning entry encapsulates who she is and how she sees the world.

We are all equal. Yesterday, today and tomorrow.”

Congratulations Jade.  We are all so proud of who you are and what you have achieved.

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My SON

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My SON

June 14th. This is the day my son was born. Time has passed in the blink of an eye. I cannot believe he is a grown man with a wife.  There is an old saying, ‘your daughter’s your daughter all of your life. Your son is your son, till he gets himself a wife.’  Like all sayings there is a truth in this but not in our case. My son is my son, and he always will be. We have a deep but different bond to the equally deep bond I share with my daughter.

What type of a man has he grown into? A simple question, he is a man I am proud to call my friend as well as my son.  He is the man, we all hope our boys will grow into.   A man whose appearance intimidates many. Big, broad, solid and bald. He rides a motorbike and wears a red bandanna. bike He holds down a responsible job. Don’t be fooled by appearances. He has his faults and is far from perfect, but he is kind, loving and generous of spirit. He has a fearsome temper, one he has learned to control. He is a man of principle, too many at times for his own good. He is married to a beautiful woman and they are true soul mates. They desperately want a family but that does not seem to be in their future. They have suffered losses and the deepest and darkest days of despair when they lost their baby James, an angel born too early to stay long in this world.

As a child, he was a handful and I remember thinking if he had been my first baby there would never have been another. Allergic to everything, well almost. Life was a trial, hyperactive and always in trouble, but with a smile that would melt your heart. He has an interesting love, hate relationship with his sister. I think it stems from her putting him in a rubbish bin in the bitter cold of a Canberra winter when he was six weeks old. A word of warning, do not say anything bad as they have always had one another’s back when it counted.  Maybe that comes from being RAAF brats and moving so often they were reliant on one another for friendship as well as companionship.  Perhaps it is, just who they are.

This is the boy who conned his Amah into arranging a snake charmer to entertain his friends at his 7th. Birthday party. The boy who drowned in the Penang Chinese Swimming Pool and when revived and safe in hospital rang the Butterworth RAAF Base Commander to tell him how nice the nurses were to him at the Seventh Day Adventist Hospital. The boy who wanted to be Steve Austin, the six million dollar man, who took a dive off the neighbouring chook pen, the boy who rode his red trike down the front steps of our house in Canberra and broke the trike and scraped his hands and face and knees. The boy who fell out of the station wagon and had stitches in his head and who one day swallowed my wedding ring.  The one who would sneak out of the house as a teenager and roam the streets at night, because he was confused when his Dad and I divorced.  I think he somehow felt responsible. He thought I never knew.  He is also the teenager who gave all the money he had saved for presents to a homeless busker one Christmas because he thought he needed it.

He is the man who stood beside me when his sister was ill, who grew up overnight when his stepfather had a double bypass, who was always there for me when I was worried about anything. He worries about his sister, about his brother, and about his beautiful wife. He was there for me when my grandparents died, when my mother was ill and throughout my father’s devastating illness and death. His grandmother’s death hit him hard he was the one person she would listen to when no one else could reach her.Nana & David

He loves me unconditionally and he loves his stepfather who he calls his Dad.  He cares for his stepbrother and sister although he doesn’t see them now.  He cares for his father and his parent’s in-law. I know if ever I need him all I have to do is say the word and he is there.  He is a man whose heart is full of love and compassion.

I am privileged to love and call him, my son and my friend.

I posted my thoughts about my daughter some time ago – I thought it fair to even up the balance. 🙂 

Where is home?

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The plane lands with a thud, brakes screaming as we hit the runway. Cabin lights dim and then brighten. Rain lashes the windows and grey clouds hang low over the airport.

I tumble down the slippery steel steps, at the rear of the plane on to the wet and greasy tarmac. The wind grabs at my flimsy coat and cut me to the bone, my port slips in my hand. My fingers are turning blue with the cold. An argument starts in my head.

‘What the hell am I  doing here? What the fuck do I hope to achieve? And fuck it to hell why wasn’t I wearing warmer clothes? After all, I was coming home to Melbourne’.

Head down, bending into the wind while my coat slaps my legs, I head to the artificial, steamy warmth of the terminal building and the baggage carousel.

Sixty minutes later I adjust the soiled seatbelt of the shiny hire car, I head out of the airport. I have a four-hour drive in front of me. The argument in my head continues.

‘You’re a fruitcake, its as black as …well you know, the roads have changed. You haven’t been here for fifteen years. You idiot. Do you really think you can do this drive at night, in the dark! What if you drive off the road and into the sea?’

Self-doubt starts to nibble and my confidence level plummets past zero. I am paralyzed by fear, inertia gnaws at my gut.  The car beeps once, a second and third time each beep more insistent than the one before it.

‘Fancy fucking car, what the hell is wrong?’

In the dark I see the lights coming toward me. Oh, Christ! I am on the wrong side of the road. I swing the wheel back urging the car to follow without spinning out. The car rocks as the lights whiz past, horn blaring.

‘Concentrate you fool. Look what happens when you don’t concentrate’.

I scream into the darkness of the cabin, ‘for god’s sake SHUT UP you nearly got me killed’.

Silence fills the car. I turn up the radio full blast, the quiet is unnerving. The rest of the trip is uneventful. I stop at a layaway for fuel and a hot meal. I’m in such a hurry to get home I burn the roof of my mouth on the bloody burger. I gulp it down and choke on the crumbs. I suck the gooey bbq sauce off my fingers and chase it down with a Pepsi.

Back in the car, the key in the ignition, I turn it and the car roars to life. I head off down the highway. Not far to go now.

Dawn is breaking, a rosy pink sky flushed with gold I wind down the window I can smell the salt tang of the sea. I have arrived.

The door to the house is wide open. “Mum I’m home”

No answer. Just me and the house.

Welcome home.

Blood Connection – Microfiction

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Blank eyes. Eyes that do not see. Devoid of emotion but not of life. The hand trembles. Breathing is shallow and frantic; grasping, sucking, greedily for air. Lungs full of congestion, suffocating, squeezing the life essence beyond redemption. I cannot meet her gaze and avert my head. Hot scalding tears scar my soul.
I hold her hand, I wipe the blood-specked spittle from her cracked lips. I moisten them with gel. Her eyelids close. This time they do not flutter. Her breathing ceases. I hold my breath and start to count. Her grip relaxes. She sighs, more bloodied foam appears. She sighs again, her frail body shudders as if she will break apart. No more breaths, no more movement, her essence gone. The woman whose blood runs in me is no more.
My mother has died. I weep tears that taste of brine, and the coppery taste of blood. I ring the bell. She has escaped, the crash cart is useless.
I will miss you, Mum.

FLEXING MY WRITING MUSCLES

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FLEXING MY WRITING MUSCLES

ENJAMBMENT – LIFE

We are obligated to celebrate life.

We have dreamed our time away; foolish, wasted

Precious time and love; perhaps now

We see the folly of our ways; and time

Lost never to come again, a singular thought

A lesson learned; a hard

And stringent message from the Gods; who

Deplore wasted time; they mourn the many lives

Whose true essence is wasted and ebbs away.

LIFE

 

 

Alliteration  – THE GLASSHOUSE

 

Magic mountains sit silent with floating wisps about their brow,

Snuggly silently sliding they fit one close to the other.

The mists abound folding molding sinuous shapes,

Rifts and rills of steam stream like evaporative trails

Cascading down a never fading curtain, a grey green screen

Dripping, glistening in dawn’s soft light.

Stoney surfaces sparkling in the shimmering light, then

Birds stretch, squawk and flutter, fluffing feathers and cleaning nests

Until daylight frees them to fly, floating high above the wispy mist.

BeerwahCloud3

 

 

 

HEARTBEAT

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HEARTBEAT

A HEARTBEAT

 

Heartbeats steady, softy hiccupping along

The machine clicks and clacks its way

His heart’s melody a wondrous song.

 

Pencil lines trace a life to prolong

With a fervent hope, the beat will not sway

Heartbeats steady, softy hiccupping along.

 

Auscultation sounds are too strong

Stop, wait, start again this isn’t child’s play

His heart’s melody a wondrous song.

 

Lub dub, swishing racing sounds are wrong

Regular beats our prayer every day

Heartbeats steady, softy hiccupping along.

 

Steady sounds, regular beats our wish life-long

Tachycardia be gone, go away

His heart’s melody a wondrous song.

 

We reject Death’s request for a liaison

Stay and smell the roses in life’s bouquet.

Heartbeats steady, softy hiccupping along

His heart’s melody a wondrous song.

 

3 AM

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3 AM

3:00am. Bells pealing, noise! I crawl out of the warm cocoon of blankets to stand outside under the inverted bowl of the night sky. Inky black and pierced by a million brilliant diamonds of light. The wind sweeps down Mount Coochin driving all before it. The dust devils swirl and twirl carrying the tang of gum on the sharp cold edge of the dancing leaves. They rush and roar along the bitumen drowning out the cacophony of the chimes and then they are gone, only the whisper of their passing remains. The chimes are relentless. They click and clack, swinging, swaying in the breeze and then falling silent as one by one I lift them from their lofty perches and silence their tongues. I lay them on the bench and the silence reproaches me. Dull and heavy the air crackles as the next wave descends the mountain. A rustle, a whisper and then a soft caress fans my cheek, followed by the bitter slap of the wind. The moon’s crescent is brightly haloed and the rumble builds to a roar as the wind tumbles down the mountain. The leaves shiver and shake, branches quivering bend beneath its force and it is gone. The new silence is broken as the sleeping truck across the street awakes. I hear the deep-throated grumbling of the truck motor, as the key turns in the ignition rousing it from sleep. The grumble resolves to a purr as the motor rises to wakefulness and two bright orbs of golden light signal its departure from its lair, ready to meet another day. One last glance at the muted chimes I draw my robe closer and head back to my bed, I have stood a good hour captured in the thrall of the night sky and the mountain’s magic. Such beauty lies in nature’s wonder.

An Arthurian Twist

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An Arthurian Twist

I still love this piece

justmecreativewriter

From November to December  each year, a competition known as the Gary Grew Award  (University of the Sunshine Coast ) is open for submissions. For Creative Writing Students at the University, this is the Holy Grail. I wrote two pieces this year, both very different. Because I could not make up my mind which one to enter, I tried a popular poll. Then I asked a couple of my peers for their advice.  The jury was out 50/50.  So I resorted to the time honoured tradition of flipping a coin.  “Myrddin Wyylt” lost.  This piece was originally written on a watermarked page.  With drop capitals and different script.  I am unable to reproduce this in the blog.The piece that I have submitted is  called, “A One-Sided Conversation.”  The theme of the competition is  “My life began with the written Word.”.  I will publish the other piece when the competition results…

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Key Tag Alert

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Key Tag Alert

In today’s busy world many family groups live apart because of work or personal commitments. The village style of life has disappeared in modern suburbia and in rural towns.  Friends are virtual, not the next door neighbour. People live longer, alone in their own homes and are more independent.   There are pro’s and cons for every situation, but what about our pets, our fur babies?

We travel in the car to shop, to go to the movies, to attend appointments and to visit friends. The unthinkable occurs, a car accident.  You loved pet is home alone.  You are hospitalised.  What happens to your fur baby?

This bright yellow key tag alerts authorities to your situation, the accompanying information in your wallet has contact details, your address and a person to call if your animals need assistance.  A simple but ingenious idea.

I recently purchased two of these tags.  my partner and I do not know our neighbours. We live in a rural town in a street that has a high occupancy turnover.  If we are in a crisis scenario, it is a comfort to know our animals will not be ignored or forgotten. Peace of mind for under $5.00.    Excellent customer service and a quick turnaround on your order. Contact https://store.fetchy.com.au/